


Crisp Honey

by astr0cat



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: America, Britain, British, Death, F/M, Guns, Haha what are these tags, War, colonists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 02:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7826080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astr0cat/pseuds/astr0cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why did I make Tom British instead of one of the Rebels?</p><p>Idfk</p><p>Anyways so I really love History class and I really like talking about War so...</p><p>General Tom Hiddleston ftw.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crisp Honey

Your job was to tend to the soldiers that had fallen in battle, bandage their wounds and the like. Never in all this time of the war would you have suspected that Thomas would have been the one to fall victim to a bullet. It was was bound to happen due to the position he was placed in, due to happen because of the rank he occupied, due to happen because of how precious he was to you. The Lord would just love to take it all away from you, all of it.

Before this had started, Britain against the Colonists, you had been the woman wedded to General Thomas. A fair woman of eternal youth, or so it seemed, now withered down by stress and endless turmoil of the war. There were many casualties, many you held the dying hand of as you watched the life drain from their orbs. It was heart wrenching.

It was a rather amusing thought to have believed that you and the brunette had planned to live a peaceful life, settle down in the country. Now the king sat in his wealth and ordered his troops around, you despised it. If you had not of been such a spineless coward, you probably would have sided with the colonists.

And now you were against them and it was too late.

A shot rang out and a bolt of air whizzed past your ear, deafening you for a short moment, dazing you with adrenaline. Quickly you turned only to see another wounded. A man in his late thirties bled from his lower abdomen, hands grasping at it softly as his eyes gazed at it shock strickenly. Beside him was your Thomas, bent and kneeled at the knee at he shot his gun forward, expression firm as tears pricked his eyes. That had been his dear friend. Hustling over, you took out a rag, shoving the cloth onto the wound and attempting to cease the blood as best you could.

Two other women came up to you and with your quick reflexes you ordered them over to the other section of the field, demanding that they keep their heads low.

This...this was Hell. Both you and Thomas had beloveds fighting tooth and nail on the other end of this bloodshed ground. The people on the other side regarded you as close allies as well. Thomas did his best to avoid the said friends but everyone else remained at his mercy. 

Though he would just love to refuse this position of being General of the battle, Thomas had been forced to join and his abilities had earned him this position. You being his lovely wife, was opted to be a makeshift medic as you desisted to leave his side. He had smiled at you, a somber little thing that almost brought tears to your tired eyes. Then he kissed your forehead, lips rough and dry.

Once you had patched up the man to the best of your ability, you turned to your husband, eyes quickly landing on him as he reloaded his weapon. You put your hand on his shoulder, eyes full of concern, expression brave. Thomas returned the look before pulling you into a one armed embrace, kissing your cheek softly. When he pulled away, a sound hissed through the air.

It all became a little too surreal a little too fast.

The brunette fell to the side, blood sprouting from his side in crimson waves. Just like his friend now, his palm trembled with pain and adrenaline, expression appalled as his orbs travelled down to the injury resting just below his skin. Then he looked up at you, your eyes flowing as your lips parted.

A second passed, maybe two before you darted forth, fresh cloth in your hand as you pressed it to his flesh. Tenderly you trickled spring water onto the blood soaked wound, water you had reserved for both you and your spouse. Ragged sobs tore through you as you gently pressed onto the bullet wound, being as careful as humanly possible.

This had been something you had forced to the back of your skull, something that now bubbled up to the surface in an evil mess.

Thomas would die, if not from the wound then the disease or the stress or-

Your eyes leaked waves of water as you pressed onto the blood soaked skin and the brunnette, being the kind soul he was, grasped the back of your head and pulled you down. 

“My sweet wife, you have done me well, done yourself well. Do not lose your courage nor your bravery, never forget to love or smile,” he kissed your cheek softly, lips leaving a scarlet mark on your flesh, “because God knows I love you more than words can allow.” 

You quickly returned the affection, nuzzling into his neck, “shall I call for a retreat?”

The general glanced around, eyes darting over the many fallen before returning his sight to you, “yes.”

His orbs began to roll to the back of his skull, the whites being the only visible portion as you slung his arm over your shoulders. Shouting out a retreat, you witnessed with wide eyes as a handful of troops returned to your call…

Only to be shot down the minute they turned their backs.

Trembling harder than you ever had in your life now, you began hustling over to a nearby tree, your beloved still held up by your upper body.

Thomas fell to the ground instantly upon reaching the destination, clutching his wound as his back leaned against the bark. You did the same, reaching forward and pressing on the cloth being all you could do.

A broken sob tore through you, shivering down your spine and quietly rolling off the back of your tongue, “i'm so sorry.” Fumbling with the fabric, you stared at his paling face, desperately wishing that you could at least give him a chance at survival. Where was this God that Christians had told you so much about? Why did He wish to take it all away? How could one be strong enough to simply just state that their sullied belongings were God's to take? Their burnt homes, lost loved ones, lost lives?

Your husband shushed you softly, his voice a small breath of cold air on a hot Summer's night, “do not apologize, you have done your best and I love you for what you have attempted and for what you have done. I love you for all that you are.” 

And suddenly there was so little time to say it all, suddenly so little words to put your emotion into. Was there a word for it, was there even a sound for it, an expression?

“Thomas, I love you. I love you so bloody much. I am honored as both a wife and a woman to have had such a man in my life. You have taught me so much; how to read, how to write, how to invent a bloody trinket. I love you...and I just want you to know that, to keep that with you..” 

Your small span of vocabulary and speech ended there, voice trailing off into small whimpers. The brunette beneath you smiled tenderly, chilling palm reaching up for you to grasp. You took it, lacing his fingers with your own before bringing your lips to lock with his, the coppery tang of blood hitting your tongue as you reluctantly pulled away.

A fresh batch of tears caked your irises as you stared down at his cold, lifeless, pale complexion. Taking in the way his cheekbones sunk in a little more than they should, the way the stress under his eyes was just a little darker than it should it be, the way his once creamy skin was now painted an ashen gray. Your Thomas, your sweet Thomas, was dead. A corpse.

Cries escaped you, quiet sounds as you attempted to hold you breath. Latching onto his still form, you held him, holding him close and stroking his hair in a soothing fashion. The whole of you quivered with sadness, anger, fear. All of the negative emotions combined into one. Loss, misery, sorrow. It was all the same when it boiled down to it.

And when you remembered his smile...that smile on that clear Autumn day when the leaves turned to a crisp honey…

There was the crack of a twig behind you and ever so slowly you faced it, head bowed as you turned your eyes up to the soldier. One of the “Rebels”, as the King had referred to them as, stood before you, weapon in hand, trigger finger frisky.

His eyes betrayed his actions, a heavy yet firm sadness hovering in those masses of black. You held Thomas closer, sobs still echoing within you as an extra two men approached from behind.

“Just listen to me…” you began softly, voice everything but steady, “just please…” you turned your head away from them, eyes locked on the fading sun before they fell down to Thomas. You held him close, “just make sure i'm buried beside him..”

 

A shot rang out into the cold, Winter air.


End file.
